


take my hand and call me yours

by mdcclvi



Category: RWBY
Genre: And they were soulmates, F/F, Soft Bees, Soulmates, They're so in love with each other, oh my god they were soulmates, set before v7, spicy bees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27509503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdcclvi/pseuds/mdcclvi
Summary: She’s addicted to Yang, completely and irrevocably in love with her. She loves her somuchand she doesn’t know how to show it. Not properly, at least. There aren’t enough words that could make Yang understand how much Blakeachesfor her, wants to bury deep into her heart, wants to imprint herself on Yang’s soul, never wants to go a day without her in her arms, her bed, her life. (“We’re meant for each other,” Yang tells her confidently, a grin painting her lips as she pairs her remark with a saucy wink. Blake rolls her eyes but can’t conceal the amused smile on her own lips.)
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 20
Kudos: 140





	take my hand and call me yours

Blake wakes with a fire in her veins, burning through her like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. Remnants of her dream linger in her head, cloudy as they are, and all she remembers is the ghost of lips on her cheek and a soft voice in her ear, light like a spring breeze, murmuring filthy nothings as a hand dips beneath her panties.

Now she’s awake with an ache that goes deeper than her skin; an ache that settles right into her soul, right into the shattered stars of the universe that make up her body, an ache that can only be soothed by a star brighter than that of the universe. Thankfully, she finds that star right next to her, an arm draped around her waist to keep her nestled close, blonde hair spilling like blood from a wound around her like a halo. (“You’re like a fallen angel,” Blake tells her once, threading her fingers through golden strands like she’s glass on the verge of breaking, “I guess that explains why I always feel so safe with you.” Yang says nothing then, an unreadable look in her lilac eyes, staring at Blake with a quiet contemplation Blake never thought she was capable of. That’s the first time she feels Yang’s lips against her own, soft like gossamer and gentle like a promise of forever.)

Reaching out, she carefully tucks some loose hair behind Yang’s ear, fingers trailing down her cheek to her jaw, unable to stop staring, unable to stop the hunger from consuming her from the inside out. She thinks of how only _she_ is allowed to touch Yang’s hair, the trust it signifies. The weight of her heart is heavy in her chest, like an anchor sinking to the sea floor with an unfortunate soul shackled to it, drowning her deeper, deeper. She isn’t scared of that feeling anymore. She isn’t going to run away from it like she did before.

“I can feel you staring,” comes Yang’s voice, thick with sleep and rough like flint, re-sparking that fire in her. She’s drawn to the flame, golden eyes dropping to Yang’s lips. Instead of words — honestly, what could she say? — she cups Yang’s jaw, pulls her in close to slide their lips together. It’s familiar and warm, as it’s always been. Blake swears the stars aligned when they first kissed — as if they were meant to, as if it was a sign directly from the universe saying _I’ve been waiting for you to find each other_ — and it’s the same feeling now, as Yang smiles against her mouth, presses closer, prosthetic fingers dipping beneath the hem of her sleep shirt to touch her waist. Even a touch as simple as that sets Blake off, gripping the front of Yang’s shirt so tight she fears she’ll rip the fabric, moving to settle on her back and pulling Yang over her, the older girl letting out a surprised noise between their mouths in the brief disconnect.

“What’s gotten into you?” Yang breathes against her lips, but Blake doesn’t want to talk. She captures Yang’s mouth once more in a far rougher kiss, teeth nipping, insistent on her bottom lip until Yang lets their tongues slide together, an appreciative groan rising in Blake’s throat as Yang’s weight settles over her comfortably. Blake tangles her fingers in Yang’s hair, humming in satisfaction when Yang pushes herself impossibly closer. It’s _hers_ and hers _alone_ to touch, anchoring them together, a bond that could never be broken.

Yang’s delicate touch slips beneath her shirt once more — the metal of her prosthetic is warm, like the rest of her — a welcomed touch as Blake arches into it, wanting more. Her legs fall open, Yang settling between them easily, a dance performed a million times, a new heat to their kiss as Yang licks her way into Blake’s mouth, nails scratching against delicate skin to elicit soft noises from the faunus.

She’s addicted to Yang, completely and irrevocably in love with her. She loves her so _much_ and she doesn’t know how to show it. Not properly, at least. There aren’t enough words that could make Yang understand how much Blake _aches_ for her, wants to bury deep into her heart, wants to imprint herself on Yang’s soul, never wants to go a day without her in her arms, her bed, her life. (“We’re meant for each other,” Yang tells her confidently, a grin painting her lips as she pairs her remark with a saucy wink. Blake rolls her eyes but can’t conceal the amused smile on her own lips.)

Yang rucks Blake’s shirt up enough to expose her stomach to the chill of the air, murmuring a soft _baby_ against her mouth, a delicious shiver rolling down her spine from the affection laced within that single word. She pushes herself up enough that Yang pulls her shirt over her head, ruffling her hair and ears in the process but she’s too lost to the heat to care, threading her fingers through Yang’s hair to pull her back into a kiss. Yang laughs against her mouth, amused. “One second, babe.”

An undignified whine rises in her throat as Yang pulls away once more, only to take her own shirt off and Blake’s eyes are immediately drawn to the newly-exposed skin, illuminated in the moonlight streaking through the curtains. Her body is littered with scars and scratches of their battles — and some of Blake’s own handiwork — but it’s beautiful like a temple that Blake wants to worship. Her hands, soft and tentative, track a scar on her hip, moving to the unblemished skin of her stomach, where strength and passion lies beneath sinewy muscles, until Yang’s hand blankets over hers.

Vivid lilac eyes never leave hers as Yang guides her hand up over her chest, resting it over her heart. It thrums underneath Blake’s fingertips, reverberating back into her own heart, a trance, a quiet falling over the room. Blake can’t speak, her heart caught in her throat as Yang links their fingers together, eyes intense to the point Blake fears she’ll stare right into her soul, devour the truth of her own heart she’s been trying so hard to conceal. “It’s yours, you know,” Yang admits into the tranquility of their room, Blake holding her breath.

For too long she’s carried the guilt of her past, never allowing her a moment’s reprieve from what she’s done and the pain she’s caused to others. For too long she’s tried to outrun who she was, the choices she made and how it came crashing down around her like tidal waves over a ship in the sea. Now she needs to look to who she wants to be. Guilt and shame, burning hot like coals of a dying fire, will do her no good now. Not when Yang is so endlessly patient and understanding. When Yang holds her in the night, chasing away her nightmares until they’re phantoms that no longer haunt her, banishing them to her past, where they belong and where they need to stay. They have no place in her future.

No. They have no place in _their_ future, full of radiant smiles, laughter, certainty.

“I know,” she answers, confident in herself, in what she wants and what she’s going to take.

There’s that _look_ in Yang’s eyes again, soft purple laced with fierce pride and affection, boring deep into Blake’s soul, tearing her into the molecules that make up who she is and who she wants to be. There are gentle fingers in her hair, pushing thick black hair back from her forehead, gentle lips tracing along the exposed skin, down from her temple to the apple of her cheek. Yang’s fingers move to her ears, reverently petting the soft fur she finds there.

There’s an intimacy in that small touch, an innate sense of trust that allows Yang to do as she pleases with the faunus. As protective of Yang is over her hair, Blake is even more so with her ears. The fact that Blake allows Yang such ease of access to the most delicate part of her speaks volumes. Not only to Yang herself and how she’s so intertwined with Blake it’s like they’re one soul split between two bodies, but also to how far Blake has come in trusting people, in allowing herself to be vulnerable and open and intimate with someone that goes deeper than just skin.

Yang is never malicious or teasing with her touch. She touches Blake with the reverence of a priest at an altar, honoring a god with prayers on their knees. The fire reignites with a memory of Yang on her knees, Blake’s fingers tangled in her golden-halo hair to pull her closer, a mouth warm on her skin, teeth marking what’s been Yang’s from the moment lilac eyes met melted gold.

Blake’s fingers catch the edge of her jaw, guiding her mouth back down. There’s a soft smile pressing against her lips, delicate fingers playing with the hem of her sleep shorts. It doesn’t matter how many times they’ve done this, Blake craves her, _needs_ her. She’ll need her until her dying breath.

“ _Blake_ ,” Yang’s voice is a warning, wavering as Blake grasps at her hips, needy, desperate — she’s never felt this _needy_ for it before — craving the warmth of the other girl’s skin, feeling the way blonde hair tickles her cheek as lips blaze a path down her jaw, teeth catching on the delicate skin of her ear. _Oh_ , she wants to memorize the way Yang says her name, feel the way it fractures her heart and splits her open, leaving her raw and overexposed in the most delicious manner.

“Insatiable,” Yang breathes against the delicate skin behind her ear, fingers hooking easily into Blake’s shorts and underwear. Blake arches her hips up enough for Yang to pull the fabric from her skin, failing to bite back the unhappy noise that rises low in her throat at the momentary loss of Yang’s warmth so the older girl can discard her clothes on the floor. Bright gold eyes fall to Yang’s hands once more as she moves to pull her own bottoms off, trapping her bottom lip beneath white teeth as she greedily drinks in Yang’s sun-warmed skin, freckles that Blake is all-too familiar with spackled across her hips and down strong thighs.

A predatory smirk pulls at Yang’s lips, sharp teeth and dark promises simmering beneath the surface as Yang moves in close to Blake, the heat radiating off her scalding, and Blake _wants_ to be burned. Metal fingers slide into her hair, tug harshly to pull her back in for a kiss. She slings a leg around Yang’s hips, draws her in closer, trembling as Yang’s tongue slides into her mouth, swallowing down the appreciative moan that rises in Yang’s throat.

The next moment finds teeth at her neck, and Yang audaciously _laughs_ at her when Blake tilts her head enough to expose her throat even more, silently asking for Yang to darken the marks that have begun to fade at the base of her neck — low enough that she easily hides them with the collar of her shirt — and Blake scrunches her nose unhappily at the reaction.

“Always so _needy_ for it, aren’t you, baby?” She’s smug, teasing and Blake _almost_ hates her for it. Instead, she knots her fingers into her hair with an impatient huff, lacing her other leg around her waist in order to rock up against her. Once is enough, as Yang’s eyes go wide, Blake feeling the frisson of pleasure that wracks her body, Yang’s next exhale a staccato.

“I can think of a better use for that mouth, Xiao Long,” she snaps back, but there isn’t much bite to it. Yang’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, a dark glint in her eyes, tongue teasing the corner of her mouth. Blake’s eyes instinctively fall to the motion, enchanted, a flush working down her throat and chest, warming the blood in her veins.

She expects a cheeky remark, easy banter between them to follow. What she gets is teeth digging into the base of her throat, possessive and heated. Blake’s breath comes out as a hiss between gritted teeth, nails digging sharp into Yang’s scalp. It’s exactly what she wants, what she needs.

Blake used to belong to someone. He was cold, callous, unforgiving. He was willing to sacrifice whatever was necessary in order to come out on top, including her. She was told it was love. She was told that love didn’t come easy, sometimes you had to suffer for it. It was a cage, a prison, shackles around her heart and mind from which she couldn’t break free. It almost destroyed her.

Almost.

Yang’s fingers ghost along her side, brushing along Blake’s own scars, tongue damp over the mark throbbing on her neck. Her fingers dip lower, to the outside of her hip, trailing down the top of her thigh. Blake’s breath catches in her throat, anticipation thrumming through her like a flapping of a hummingbird’s wings, legs widening slightly in invitation.

She knows how wet she is. She feels the way it smears against her pale skin, how her need has been growing steadily ever since Yang looked at her, open and wanting and feral. The first touch of Yang’s fingers over her folds is too soft to satisfy, a phantom touch that leaves her grasping desperately at Yang’s shoulder, firm muscle rippling under warm skin.

“So wet _already_ ,” comes her voice, but it’s rough, a pant against her damp skin, and she only replies with a throaty hum, shamelessly arching her hips up into the touch, a quiet plea for more.

“And you’re not?” she challenges, own voice breathy, nails digging in enough to mark as she drags her nails down her shoulder and back, happily adding to the collection she’s already gifted Yang’s skin. Yang indulges herself before answering, two fingers gentle on her folds as she gathers the wetness she finds there; Blake feels the proud smile Yang sports against her collarbone, lips pressing in a semblance of a kiss to the delicate skin.

“How about you find out?”

Blake wouldn’t necessarily call herself _competitive_ , but she’s not one to back down from a challenge. There’s a certain electricity to Yang this evening, tension coiling under muscle, and Blake isn’t about to be selfish when it comes to Yang.

As Yang continues to work marks along her collar and chest, Blake drifts her fingers inside Yang’s thighs, heat blossoming in her chest like fireworks exploding as she catches the slick that coats warmed skin. The low hum in Yang’s chest reverberates into her heart. Blake’s touch becomes more daring, fingers catching against her entrance and feeling the way her slick drips down to her knuckles, breath coming out sharp as her mind fogs with an overwhelming need to be knuckle-deep in her.

Yang’s tongue circles her nipple before her teeth pull it into her mouth gently, slipping two fingers into Blake easily. Her eyes flutter, lost in the sensation, hips rocking forward on instinct. It takes a few moments for her to react in kind, too lost in the welcomed stretch of Yang’s fingers, as she carefully slips her own fingers into Yang’s waiting heat, the teeth around her nipple tightening with the motion.

Blake’s focus splits between the ache between her legs and the fire that lines her veins as her fingers sink to the knuckle into Yang.

“Good girl,” Yang breathes against her nipple and Blake’s blood warms, spreading through her like venom. Soft lips trail across her chest, tongue working over her other nipple as Yang’s nimble fingers start to rock into her. Her concentration splinters and shatters, her own fingers clumsy as she thrusts them into Yang, her wetness dripping down Blake’s fingers with each thrust, obscene as it slips down her wrist.

Yang bleeds into her very being, creating a home in the cracks of Blake’s heart, the fire in her eyes turning her former self into ash and allowing her new self to rise like a phoenix, burning brighter than the sun, ready to consume the universe whole.

Yang hooks her fingers, a match to the fuel coursing through Blake, white splashing behind her eyes as her free hand grips at Yang’s waist, nails digging deep. She hears Yang’s throaty laugh, addictive like a drug, shot straight into her veins, but she’s lost to the feeling of being consumed by the blonde. Yang knows her body better than she knows it herself, lips tracing the shell of her ear as her fingers work steadily in her, those same sweet nothings from her dream whispered in her ear.

A sharp gasp leaves her pink lips, head tilting back as she arches off the bed, sheets twisting underneath her.

“Like that, baby?”

She only replies with a cut-off moan that Yang tastes with her lips against her throat, feeling as Yang’s fingers reach into her deeper, fraying the edges of her control. Her own fingers lose their rhythm, thrusting into Yang like a ghost of Yang’s own movement in herself, but the blonde doesn’t seem to mind, teeth scraping along the delicate line of her neck as she presses her thumb to Blake’s clit.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Yang,” Blake moans, walls tightening around her fingers to keep her deep, never wanting to lose the sensation of Yang breaching into her senses, into her mind and life and heart. She feels the satisfied huff of breath under her jaw as Yang distractedly smears kisses to whatever skin she can reach, the combined pleasure of Yang’s fingers inside her and the steady rolling of her clit under her thumb making her insides melt like bars of gold in a fire, waiting to be made into something new, something perfect.

“ _Yang!_ ” she cries out as her pleasure crests, unable to think of anything but _her_ , walls fluttering around her fingers as she cums, Yang steadily pressing on her clit to keep the pleasure close as she rides out the waves of her orgasm, legs trembling with the force of it.

Releasing her nails from Yang’s hip, she cups her jaw lightly to draw her back down, unable to kiss her properly through her smile. Yang gingerly withdraws her fingers from Blake, metal hand cupping her face as Blake forces her attention back to Yang.

Teeth catch on her bottom lip when she gives a particularly harsh thrust, Yang’s fingers tangling almost painfully into her hair as her hips grind down against Blake’s hand. Her eyes are closed; Blake mourns the loss of seeing beautiful lavender eyes, but seeing her face scrunch up in pleasure makes it all worth it. She’s wordless for once, mouth hanging open as her breath comes out in desperate gasps, chasing her own pleasure and Blake is so happy to let her.

“ _Fuck_ ,” is her whimpered warning, eyes dropping instead to watch as she fucks herself on Blake’s fingers, her silky walls trembling around Blake’s fingers before they tighten, Blake’s name a moan on Yang’s lips as warmth fills her senses, Yang’s pleasure flooding her fingers.

Once her orgasm subsides, Blake pulls her fingers free. Yang slips down to sit back on her legs, eyes drawn to the way Blake inspects her fingers, Yang’s cum glistening like stars in the moonlight.

Blake presents her fingers with an eyebrow raised, rapt fascination painted on Yang’s face as she delicately holds her wrist, bringing her fingers to her mouth. Blake watches, allured, the dying embers of her pleasure sparking with renewed interest, a new wave of heat washing over her as Yang licks her fingers clean.

Yang leans down to capture her mouth in a dirty kiss once she’s finished, tongue working in her mouth for a few breathless minutes, before moving to drag kisses down her throat, dragging her lips across the mark that’s begun to purple on Blake’s neck affectionately. Fire trails after her lips, like the sun itself is pressing marks to her skin as Yang nips the skin over her ribs and down the center of her stomach.

Content, humming low in her throat as she does, Blake rakes her fingers through tousled locks, pushing her hair back from her forehead so she can watch as Yang’s eyes lock with hers, lavender meeting sunflowers.

Yang pauses at her hip, pulling back enough to look at the criss-cross scar that mars her hip. Breath caught in her throat, Yang thumbs over the mark with a certain tenderness, as if making sure Blake is still real and breathing beneath her fingers.

“I wasn’t able to protect you,” she whispers into the room, unable to look at Blake, her thumb never stopping its trek across the mark.

Blake swallows hard, the familiar sting of tears lining her eyes as she lets out a controlled breath through her nose, her own touch in Yang’s hair turning soft, gentle, kind.

“You couldn’t have known,” she rationalizes, keeping her voice steady. For as strong as Yang appears to be — as she _wants_ to be — her vulnerability lies just beneath the surface, a fault ready to crumble. Blake fears that one day she’ll crack, break into pieces that she’ll never be able to repair, that she’ll never be able to save.

“I couldn’t let him take you from me,” she continues, finally looking to Blake’s eyes, the weight of her words lingering in the air, thick like smoke, choking Blake until she can’t breathe properly.

“Not even death itself can stop me from coming back to you,” Blake promises, voice firm, strength in her words because she needs Yang to _understand_ , nails pressing into her scalp, needing to feel her under her fingers, wanting to catalogue every inch of her.

Yang dips her head down to press her lips against the scar, sealing Blake’s promise with a kiss of finality, allowing Blake to breathe easier, touch turning delicate once more, watching the strands fall from her fingers like leaves in the fall, crowning Yang’s head like a crown to a queen.

As soft lips trace the inside of her upper thigh, Blake finds herself breathless once more, enchanted as Yang’s eyes find hers again, a mischievous glint reflecting the striking moonlight, teeth scraping along the soft skin of her inner thigh, tongue coming out to gather the lingering wetness that coats Blake’s skin.

Blake’s fingers curl in her hair, pulling her closer, a ship battering in the waves but never breaking, unable to speak as her lips part, hazily thinking of how good Yang tastes and how much she wants to bury her face between Yang’s legs until the blonde cries out for release.

For her part, Yang possesses an impeccable sense of control when she wants to, and Blake finds her impatience getting the better of her.

“Are you going to eat me out or not?”

“If you’re going to be a brat about it, no.”

“Yang, _please_.”

Desperate, so _desperate_ for her, hoping that arching her hips _that_ much closer to her mouth will entice her, will snap her control, will make her give into her baser instincts to touch and taste and take as much as she wants, because Blake is willing to give her anything, _everything_.

“ _Oh_ , you sound so pretty when you beg, baby.”

She’s cocky, lips pulled into that smug smile that Blake wants to hate but can’t because she looks so _hot_. Blake feels the wetness that coats her thighs, too turned on to care at this point, whining low in her throat as she tugs on Yang’s hair — hoping it’ll grant her what she wants — to spur the blonde into action.

Yang likes to watch as she eats Blake out, lavender eyes darkening as she flattens her tongue to drag against Blake’s cunt, Blake unable to keep her eyes opened as she tilts her head back against the pillow, moan rising in her throat as that wet warmth rocks through her entire being, a star exploding. 

She shivers under Yang’s tongue, vaguely registering as Yang’s fingers spread her folds to dip her tongue into Blake’s welcoming body, Blake’s hips automatically rocking against her mouth, needing her deep, deeper.

Blake reaches for Yang’s free hand that’s on her hip, linking their fingers together delicately, until Yang’s tongue swipes deliciously over that spot that makes her sees stars behind her eyes, an entire universe being created right in her own mind where it’s nothing but the two of them, and then she’s gripping Yang’s hand like it’s her own lifeline, the one safeguard that’s keeping her from drowning.

She groans, low and deep, as Yang pushes two fingers into her once more. She cradles Yang close to her cunt, nails digging so deep into her scalp she’s it hurts, hips rocking against her mouth like the tides of the ocean. Yang huffs a laugh against her pussy, amusement clear in her eyes as she indulges Blake, allowing her to control the pace, always so patient, so understanding, so affectionate.

Yang pulls her mouth away, as loathe as Blake is for her to do so, tongue swirling around her swollen clit before drawing it between her lips, sucking on it as Blake continues to rock on her fingers. 

“ _Yang_.”

Thoroughly consumed by her, the one constant in her life no matter the circumstances, the only person that matters in this moment, in every moment of her life. Yang is everything; dynamite with a fuse ready to blow at a moment’s notice, the comforts of warm sheets and rain falling outside, a book she never wants to stop reading, and Blake would rather die than live without her in her life for a single second, needing her by her side every step of the way, needing her to breathe, to live.

Yang’s tongue, so skillful, always knowing what she needs, swipes over her in such a manner that makes her next breath leave her in pieces, legs tightening around her head as her peak creeps closer.

She chances opening her eyes, overwhelmed by the sight of Yang between her legs, golden eyes bright with the fire of a thousand suns burning through her to her core — her soul — is what rocks her to her orgasm, unable to do anything but moan as the pleasure sweeps through her entire being. She feels like she’s falling apart, but Yang keeps her steady, grip firm on her hip as her pleasure paints Yang’s mouth like lipstick, waiting to be kissed off and ruined.

She melts back against the sweat-stained sheets as she settles from the pleasure that rocks her to her core, Yang’s mouth leaving lingering kisses to her over-sensitive skin. Her fingers thread through her golden tresses, sated and ravaged, sinking comfortably into the sheets as Yang’s cum-covered lips trail up from her thighs to her hip, stomach, sternum, until her mouth catches on Blake’s, spreading whatever is left of Blake’s cum onto her own lips.

Yang’s metal hand comes up to cup her jaw, soft but firm, tongue pressing into her mouth for a few lazy minutes until she pulls back, looking at Blake through the blanket of moonlight that continues to shine through their curtains, painting her like artwork from the renaissance, ethereal and untouchable. Her thumb strokes over her cheek, an emotion that Blake has seen a hundred times over flashing through her eyes — like the memories of a thousand lifetimes already lived. Blake has never been brave enough to ask about it before but now...

“Why do you always look at me like that?”

Her voice is quiet, wavering, almost afraid of what the answer could be. Any louder and she could shatter this precious thing she holds so dear to her heart, her own hand coming to rest at the back of Yang’s neck, thumb stroking softly over her pulse point, hoping that it can give her some guidance, some clarity into what makes Yang _Yang_ , her map of the stars that create the universe, the threads of her soul that make her whole.

“I see my soul in your eyes,” Yang replies easily, fingers tracing delicately over her cheek until they cup her jaw, her anchor once more in the seas of a storm, threatening to tear her to pieces.

“I love you,” Blake blurts, though her voice is still soft, on the verge of imperceptible, unable to hold it back anymore, wanting her to know, _needing_ her to know. Blake would die a thousand times over for her, would sell her soul to keep her safe, to make sure that no harm would ever come to her again.

“I know, baby,” she replies almost _too_ easily, to the point where Blake fears that she doesn’t _understand_ , that she doesn’t understand the gravity of her words, of how Blake will fall apart without her, will die a slow, lonely death without her in her life.

Blake looks at her, taken aback, scared.

Yang pauses, eyes softening considerably, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips — so reminiscent of their first kiss, of thousands of kisses yet to come.

“I love you too.”

The mirror of her soul shatters, the pieces finally breaking in such a manner that she’s scared she won’t be able to stitch herself back together again, breath caught in her chest as she looks at Yang.

Yang.

 _Yang_.

She looks so sure of herself, so confident in what she’s just confessed, unlike Blake who’s sure her uncertainty is written clearly in her eyes, unable to believe that someone like Yang, someone so beautiful, so warm and affectionate and _whole_ could love _her._

Yang, as aloof as she may seem, can read Blake like a book she’s read over and over, able to douse the flames of doubt that are ringing sirens in her head, can set her steady on a course of certainty, of _love_.

“I’ll love you forever, Blake,” she says, voice soft but firm, understanding that she can cut through the doubt that plagues Blake’s mind like the fog of an upcoming storm. “Even in the afterlife, I know my soul will find yours.”

If a few tears slip down Blake’s cheek at the admission, they don’t address it. Her smile could shatter the universe like the phoenix finally rising from the ashes, creating a space for only them and their love, everlasting until the universe itself ceases to exist.

Blake pulls Yang back down to her, sealing their promise with a kiss. 

She sleeps like that, the brightest star in the universe curled into her arms, the fire of her love keeping her warm.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by _moonlight_ by ariana grande.


End file.
